Three
by Briar Elwood
Summary: It's no fun when the entire world is out for your skin. Adding a true psychopath to the equation doesn't help things, either. Takes place after Long Way Back- contains SPOILERS. Elements of Michael/Fiona. The rating is for a reason.
1. Prologue

Through my uneasy sleep, I heard something. Instinctively, my eyes snapped open, I reached under my pillow and aimed warningly at the opening door. Sam stepped in, saw me and raised his hands defensively with raised eyebrows.

"Whoa, Mikey, it's me. Calm down."

I lowered my handgun with a sigh and rubbed at my eyes. "Yeah, that's a little hard to do when the whole world is out for my skin."

"Hey, now, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" Sam said, going straight for my fridge. "I mean, Fiona, Maddy and I aren't out to kill you. Really, it's just this mystery person who's out to get you."

"That we know of," I pointed out, throwing my sheets off and stepping out of bed. "And, since it's a 'mystery' person, that translates into everyone."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sam waved off, opening a beer. "Can't be too careful, whatever. Still. You need to relax a bit."

I wasn't going to argue with him anymore. I didn't have the energy.

"So. Sleeping in late? You're usually up and about by this time. Tired? Has been stressful lately."

I'd have to remember to give Sam some award for understatement of the year. Stressful lately. Not at all. Fi decides to leave, someone comes to town to kill her, almost succeeds, meanwhile my one ticket to getting my job back turns out to be helping Fi's to-be murderer, I kill Strickler (that one I was still wrapping my mind around), that gets the whole world out on my ass. Stressful? Never.

"Tired, yes. Sleeping in late, no. Just got to bed an hour or so ago."

Sam raised his eyebrows at me again as I walked over to him to grab a yogurt. "What were you doing all night?" he asked. He frowned, eyes fixed on my every movement as I grabbed a spoon and started eating. "Fiona wasn't over, was she?"

Now I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, Sam?"

He coughed. "Well, I mean, she _did_ just almost _die_. And _leave_. And you two _did _just get into a fight. Maybe you two made up and--"

"Sam!" Suddenly I understood where he was going with this. "No. Fi was _not_ over."

"But you've made up, right?" Sam said, pointing at me. I scowled.

"Not like that."

Sam didn't look convinced. Truth be told, I couldn't blame him. But I wasn't going to admit that. However, it seemed as if things between Fi and I were at a point we'd never had to deal with before. Things seemed a bit... awkward. It was strange: I wasn't really the awkward type and neither was she. But the few times we had talked since saving her, neither of us had had any real conversation that had to do with anything. We could talk business, but we couldn't look into each other's eyes. It wasn't right. And it made me uneasy.

"So, uh, look," Sam said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Your mom sent me over here."

I raised an eyebrow. "She couldn't just call?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "She's not exactly thrilled that I'm staying at her place again."

"Someone is after me, Sam! We don't know--"

Sam raised his hands. "I know, Mike! But you know your mom. She gets touchy."

I growled, shoving my spoon in the yogurt with a little more force than necessary. "What does she want?"

"Her oven's broken."

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Of course it is." I took one last spoonful of the yogurt before setting it down. "All right. Let me shower first, I'll be right over."

Sam gave me a twisted expression. "Would it, uh... be okay if I just hung out over here until you're ready to go?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you really that scared of my mom?"

Sam hesitated for a moment before saying, very firmly, "Yes. Yes, I am."

A/N: It's a prologue. It's short. Not much happens, except for setting up. However, I can promise you, there will be thrilling action starting next chapter.

I love reviewers! I live for constructive criticism!


	2. Chapter 1

Not to my surprise, it turned out Ma's dishwasher was perfectly fine. It wouldn't be for long, that was for sure, but Ma's purposes for getting Sam to fetch me lay elsewhere.

"I just don't understand _why_ Sam has to stay here again!"

"Is he really that much trouble, Mom?" I asked wearily.

"No, _Sam_ is perfect gentleman," Ma said. "Except for when he won't answer my questions!"

"Mom, we don't _know_ what's going on!" I pointed out, wondering how many times I'd have to say that until she'd believe me. "Strickler was more than what he let on and, now that he's gone, someone's in town to 'clean up his mess.' They killed my agency contact. That means they're probably after me, too."

"But why--"

"Sam's staying here because they might try to get to you through me," I interrupted. "It's happened before, you know that. Why Sam? Because he _also_ needs a place to stay since I drove Miss Reynold's car off a building."

Ma stared at me, not looking too thrilled. However, it seemed she was going to let the issue go. For now, anyway.

"Can I go now, Mom?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes. I really need more sleep.

"Go where?"

I looked up to her despairingly. She was giving me the hard stare she saved for her interrogations. "Back to my place. Sam woke me up when you sent him over."

The interrogating look dropped, replaced by concern. Damn, that woman could change moods fast. "Have you been sleeping okay, Michael? You have bags under your eyes."

I frowned at her for a second, assessing the best strategy to get me out. "No, Mom, I'm not getting any sleep. Thought I'd go to my place and take a nap. That okay?

The smile she gave me was almost patronizing. "That sounds like a good idea, dear. You get some good sleep, okay?"

I smiled tightly back. "Yeah. Will do." I tried not to run out the door.

XxXxX

I had to suppress a ywan as I unlocked the door to the loft and walked in. My phone started to ring as I locked the door again. Pulling it out to see Fiona's name on the caller ID, I scowled at the unfamiliar lurch in my stomach. This was getting ridiculous.

"Hey, Fi."

"Michael, I can't find my keys."

I froze. "What?"

"I had them packed away. I just realized that they were still in one of these boxes laying around. At least I thought they were." She sounded a bit panicky. I didn't blame her. Her keys included her copy of the key to my place. That in the hands of someone unfriendly...

My eyes started scanning the loft as I walked cautiously to the deck, pulling out my handgun from underneath my shirt.

"How could you possibly--"

"I know, Michael!" Fi interrupted. "I feel terrible already, no need to rub it in anymore. I figure I should let you know before you get yourself assassinated."

"Glad to know you care so mu--"

It's cliché but there really are situations when time seems to slow. For example, when you find yourself being jerked around by a strong hand on your shoulder and there's suddenly a knife in your stomach. Because of the thousands of synapses flashing through your nerves and flooding your brain, every detail of pain is crystal clear. You can feel the rough edges of the knife, you can feel it steadily sinking deeper, you can feel the slight twist as fingers tighten on the weapon. However, because of this overflow of pain registering in you brain, your other senses are clouded. To ward off any enemy, you have to rely solely on instinct. Which is even more difficult if you're also recovering from shock.

I threw up a punch to the bottom of person's jaw, only clipping him or her as my vision was blurring into a gray haze. Suddenly they were gone. I had no idea how, he could've vanished into thin air for all I knew, but there was no longer anyone to ward off.

Reeling from the combined shock and searing pain, I tried to stagger to my phone which I had dropped along with my handgun. I thought I could dimly hear Fiona calling my name over the reciever, but I couldn't be sure. I had only taken a couple of uneasy steps before I collapsed. I glanced down at my midsection and saw my assassin had lef the knife. Every movement I made was making the cut worse.

That was the last thing I registered. Before I could even decide it was necessary to get the knife out of my stomach, I passed out.

XxXxX

Despairingly, Fiona looked around at the mess in her living room. Boxes lay strewn everywhere, contents spilling out. However, none of this mess seemed to contain what she was looking for. Quickly, she pulled out her phone and hit the speeddail. Two rings later, her favorite voice came over the reciever.

"Hey, Fi."

"Michael, I can't find my keys." The words came spilling out in her panic and she fought for a moment to regain her composure. Everything would be fine. Michael could take care of himself. He'd just have to be even more careful now. If that was possible.

There was a slight pause before Michael spoke again. "What?"

"I had them packed away. I just realized that they were still in one of these boxes laying around. At least I thought they were." Fiona's eyes scanned the mess again, as if hoping the keys would suddenly appear.

"How could you possibly--"

"I know, Michael!" Fiona interrupted. "I feel terrible already, no need to rub it in anymore. I figure I should let you know before you get yourself assassinated." Her tone was light but the panic was not going down at all.

"Glad to know you care so mu--"

Michael's voice suddenly cut off into a gasp. Fiona froze, the panic sky rocketing. "Michael?" No answer. There was a clatter, like Michael's phone had just hit something. The line was still open, though. "Michael?" she asked again. "Michael!" Nothing. As fast as her fingers would move, she hung up and called Sam.

"Yeah."

"Sam, Michael's in trouble," Fiona said, stumbling over her words.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I was just on the phone with him, I don't know what happened." Fiona was moving, running to the rental car she still was using. "I lost my keys, or someone stole them, they have--"

"A key to Mike's loft," Sam finished for her. "He was on his way back there just now."

Damn, her keys had the key to the car on them, too. Fiona started pulling out wires. "This is my fault, Sam."

"Don't think about that right now," Sam said quickly. "I'll meet you over there."

Fiona's mind was buzzing as she sped to Michael's loft. When she thought about it later, she couldn't really remember driving there. Worst possible scenarios kept flashing through her mind's eye and she kept shoving them away for fear of loosing it. It was her fault if anything happened to him. It was her fault.

She pulled up just as Sam was climbing out of Madeline's car. He pulled out his handgun and Fiona grabbed the P90 she had sitting in the passenger seat. Both raised their weapons defensively and sprinted through the gate and up to the door. Sam shoved his key in the lock, Fiona winced when she realized the lock hadn't been forced, and the two of them burst in, circling quickly.

"Mike!" Sam yelled, spotting the man on the floor. Fiona's stomach dropped when she saw Michael's motionless, slumped body and she looked away quickly, raising her P90 again and doing another, more thorough circle of the room.

"Fiona, he doesn't have a pulse." Sam's voice was quite and cautious, as if he really didn't want to be the one telling her this.

"CPR was invented for a reason, Sam." Fiona's lips barely moved when she spoke and she refused to look. Instead, she walked upstairs, looking around for any clues, anything the assassin might have left behind. Her eyes fell on something shining in the dim light and she closed her eyes. It was her keys.

A/N: I really didn't want to change the POV, but there was no way I could do a couple of scenes from Michael's POV. He's passed out. There's no way. :)

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	3. Chapter 2

Jaw tense, Fiona picked up her keys and shoved them in her pocket. Without realizing it before it was too late, she glanced over to Sam. He was hunched over Michael's still lifeless figure, administering mouth to mouth. Figuring she was already enduring the sight of a basically dead Michael, Fiona walked down to examine the damage further. She almost wished she hadn't.

A deep, dark blood was everywhere. Michael's nice white button-up shirt was torn and stained. A sinister looking handle was still pertruding from his stomach. Fiona had to look away. There was nothing she could do right now and she knew it. If Sam could restore Michael's pulse... _When_ Sam restored Michael's pulse. She couldn't stand to think of any other possibility. After that happened, she could help bandage the wound, get the knife out. Right now, though, she really wanted to blow something up. Whoever had stolen her keys sounded like a good idea.

Her eyes started to scan the area once again, this time trying to visualize what had happened. The assassin must have been inside the loft before Michael, otherwise he would've heard them open the door and would've had time to do something about it. Like shoot the bastard. Right between the eyes. Fiona couldn't help but smile a little at that thought, however grim a smile it was.

Michael would've been looking around, gun out... Ah, there was his gun, laying next to his phone. He was probably checking out on the deck and the assassin jumped him. Must have panicked when they saw Michael was on the phone. They'd done a sloppy job, really. Left the weapon, left the keys. Locked the door behind them, though. Or maybe they went off the deck...

Fiona moved outside, looking around her for any clues, anything at all.

"He's got a pulse!"

She whirled to see Sam sitting up, looking slightly relieved. "Fi, we gotta get this knife outta him."

"You realize that doing that could kill him?" she said, coming back inside and going through the cupboards for anything that could be used as a bandage. She grabbed some sheets that were probably there in case of anything like this and alcohol. She eyed it for a moment before deciding Michael had greater need than she did.

"It'll either kill him or wake him up. But, one way or another, it needs to come out," Sam pointed out. Fiona nodded, walking over to him and kneeling down on the other side of Michael.

"I know. Thought I'd make sure, though."

Sam only nodded grimly before placing a firm hand on the handle of the knife. Fiona placed her hands around it, pressing down. He looked up at her.

"Ready?"

"No. Do it."

XxXxX

Pain. Damn, I hate pain. You develop a high pain tolerance when you're a spy. But there are some types of pain that no one can really cope with.

I knew the knife was out of my mid-section. That was probably why I was awake, actually. However, that wasn't really helping the pain. In fact, it just made it worse. I grabbed onto something soft with one hand, digging my fingernails in to try to relieve the overwhelming agony. I heard my name once. But then I blacked out again.

XxXxX

"Michael!"

"He's passed out, Fiona," Sam said softly, moving to help her bandage Michael up. Fiona didn't move for a moment, Michael's grip still strong on her wrist and his strangled cry still ringing in her ears. All her fault, all her fault. The words kept chanting through her head, pounding, pounding.

"Fiona."

She turned back to Sam, who had the alcohol in his hand. "He might wake up again because of this, but--"

"I know," she said, annoyed. Sam was looking at her like one of those doctors telling the family that their loved one had just passed on. Like she was helpless and fragile. She reached with the hand Michael's fingers weren't still lodged in for the sheets as Sam poured a little of the liquid on Michael's wound. Fiona felt his grip tightened on her for a moment before it relaxed again and she started wrapping the sheets around his torso as Sam lifted Michael up just enough for her.

The two friends worked methodically, without speaking, eventually moving Michael to his bed and setting up a makeshift hospital. After an hour or so, Fiona sat down with a blueberry yogurt and Sam with a cold beer.

"What d'ya think happened?" Sam asked after a moment.

"Someone stole my keys," Fiona started, eyes fixed on the mysteries of yogurt. "Left them behind, actually." She pulled them out of her pocket and threw them to Sam. "Must've been inside before Michael got back, otherwise he wouldn't have been caught off guard. I was on the phone with him, I'd just told him the keys were missing. He had his handgun out, probably was checking out the deck. The assassin attacked, panicked when they saw Michael was on the phone and left, I'm guessing off the deck, since the door was locked when we got here."

"And, in his panic, left your keys and his knife," Sam added, glancing at the knife that was now sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

"It could've been a she," Fiona argued. Sam raised an eyebrow, sipping at his beer.

"Could've been an it," he threw back. "Or a he-she."

Fiona was not amused. Sam decided it'd be a good idea to move on.

"The knife's not anything special, so that's a dead end," he mused. "Maybe one of his agency buddies?"

"They wouldn't be so sloppy," Fiona said, shaking her head. "They'd make sure they finished him off for good and they wouldn't leave anything behind."

"You think Mikey actually got a chance to see the guy? Person?" Sam amended quickly. Fiona shrugged, spoon in her mouth.

"You'd have to ask Michael."

XxXxX

I remember flashes. Fuzzy images of Fi and Sam, sometimes sitting asleep or eating, sometimes hovering above me. I remember once Ma disturbingly close to my face, worried expression quite clear. I didn't know where I was. I didn't remember what had happened. I knew there was a dulling pain in my midsection and I knew I was never alone. That was about the extent of my knowledge.

Every time I woke up and was aware of my surroundings (to a certain point, at least), I'd remember a bit more and stay awake a bit longer. I remember once waking up to see Fi curled up at the foot of my bed, fast asleep. Feeling rather more alive than I had in the past, I tried to sit up a little and immediately regretted it. I groaned, laying back down and cursing in several languages in my head. It was injuries like these that I _could not stand_. Injuries like these that meant I couldn't do my job, I had to stay bedridden, hooked up to tubes and wires. Not that I actually had a job anymore, but I still hated feeling useless.

"Fi," I whispered, not fully wanting to wake her. Who know how much sleep she had been getting lately? Obviously she'd been taking shifts with Sam to keep an eye on me while I was out. Maybe they had found some clue to lead them to my assassin and, while they weren't on their shift with me, they were running around the city, chasing leads. Maybe this was the only chance Fi ever got to sleep. But she'd also never forgive me for being so aware of my surroundings and not waking her.

"Fi," I hissed again, reaching out with a foot to nudge her. She mumbled, curling in tighter. I felt terrible, but... "Fi! Hey!"

Reluctantly, she looked over shoulder to me, eyes bleary. "Mm?" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Michael!" She sat up, fully awake now. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed in the stomach a few days ago," I replied with a twisted expression. "It's rather uncomfortable to raise my head like this to talk to you, Fi. Could I have an extra pillow or something?"

Fiona seemed to fly off the bed to put another pillow under my head. She brushed a hand on my forehead tenderly.

"How long was I out?" I asked quietly, savoring the cool touch of her hand.

"Three days," she replied, equally quiet. "Michael... did you see...?"

"Who it was?" I finished for her, disappointed. Maybe they hadn't found a clue. "No, I didn't. Did you and Sam find anything?"

Fiona shook her head, looking just as disappointed as I felt. She had probably been plotting some ploy to murder my assassin. And, if I knew Fi, the ploy would include a great deal of loud noises and fire.

She stood up, turning away and I tried desperately not to be outrageously downcrested by the loss of her touch. "Fi..."

"Your mom threatened both Sam and I's lives if we didn't call when you woke up," she told me, placing her phone to her ear. "You might want to prepare yourself. I'll bet that she'll be over here faster than you can say 'No, really, I'm fine, Mom.' Oh. And you know she'll never believe that."

A/N: Hm. I don't think I have anything to say about this chapter. Is it too slow? It's slower, yes, but, well, how do you beat randomly getting stabbed? Oh, wait. We're getting to that. Oh, now are you intrigued? I hope so... :)

Also... I'd like to point out our first "three." *is not saying anymore...*

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!


	4. Chapter 3

"Michael!" Ma came scurrying in, past Fiona who was holding the door for her. "How are you? I'm so glad you're awake. I've been so worried!"

I didn't answer. I was staring at the person who'd walked in behind her. "Nate?"

He grinned at me jovialy. "Hey, bro."

"What're you doing here?" I couldn't help the slight rude tone in my voice. Nate was used to it, though, thankfully, and just shrugged.

"You know Mom. She called me into town, telling me there was some family emergency."

"Well, isn't Michael almost dying a family emergency?" Ma asked stubbornly. Nate shrugged.

"I guess."

"What if your brother had actually died, Nathan?" Ma was not going to let it down easily.

"Mom, I'm right here," I interrupted. Nate shot me a somewhat grateful smile. "It's fine. Nate doesn't need to be here."

"Michael, you almost _died_!"

"Actually, he kind of did die." Fiona had closed the door and moved closer. I frowned up at her. She shrugged. "When Sam and I showed up, you had no pulse. You weren't brain dead, obviously, but it really all depends on your definition of 'dead.'"

Ma looked like she was going to have some sort of seizure.

"Mom," I said firmly, not really wanting to have her collapse on top of my wound. "I'm fine. I promise."

"You were _dead_?"

"Apparently." I glanced over to Fiona, glaring. Ma glared at her, too.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Mom!" I exclaimed, seeing the warning signs from Fi's eyes. "I'm fine! Really!"

"Michael, do you realize what you just went through?"

I closed my eyes exasperately. "Yes, Mom. I do. Do you realize how many times I've almost died? It shakes you up every time, sure. But I'm fine. It's okay. Thanks for being so concerned, but I'm _fine_."

It was then that the door opened. Sam walked in, looking highly annoyed and dragging someone in with him. "Hey, how's Mikey doing?"

"As he's just told us several times, apparently, he's fine," Ma replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Sam looked over, surprised.

"Hey! Mike! You're awake! How you feeling?"

I sighed. "I'm fine."

"See?" Ma said.

"Who's your friend, Sam?" I asked, eyeing the man who was looking simultaneously angry, awkward and scared half to death. Sam's smile dropped into a growl.

"Found him trying to break through the gate. Figured we could find out what he wants."

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to scoot up to get a better look and regretting it. A hiss escaped from my lips and I sunk back down into the mattress. The man straightened up, the awkwardness and fear dying down a bit.

"Detective David Branca, Miami PD."

All of us exchanged looks. Our last run in with the Miami PD had not exactly been the most fun experience.

"And why were you trying to break in to my place?" I asked, almost not wanting to here the explanation.

"I know what you can do," David said. "I read your file from when Paxson was on your case."

Of course that woman would come up. "Don't believe everything she says, David."

"Oh, I don't. I was able to fill in some blanks. Not quite sure what your story is, but I get the feeling you've been involved in some cases that the PD's never been able to close. You don't exactly leave an easy trail to follow."

"Well, that's flattering," I commented, confused. "So why are you here, then?"

David paused for a moment before speaking. "I need your help."

My eyebrows shot up. Well. This was new.

"You can't get your cop buddies to help?" Fiona asked, sounding bitter. I looked over to her. Her arms were crossed and she was staring at David with stone in her eyes. David glared at her.

"I'm not asking for _your _help, Miss Glennanne."

David wouldn't be able to tell, but Fi looked a bit caught off guard by the fact he knew her name.

"She works with me, David," I said quickly. He shook his head.

"I just need you. I don't want an illegal gun runner, a washed-out drunk, a chain-smoking old woman or a gambling kid on this case. MacGyver will do fine."

MacGyver. I looked nothing like Richard Dean Anderson, how in the world was I MacGyver? I didn't have time to dwell on that thought, though: David had offended every single person in the room other than myself.

"That's my friends and family you're talking about, David," I reminded him before anyone could make a move. "If you want my help, I'd suggest not insulting them."

David's lips thinned in annoyance.

"What's your problem?" I asked after a moment of pressing silence.

"You can't be serious," I heard Nate whisper.

"This morning, I got a call from some woman," David started, still looking unhappy of the prospect of having everyone else here. "Wouldn't say her name. All she said was that she had kidnapped my sister. I tried to get more information out of her, but she hung up."

"She called you on your own phone?" I asked, frowning.

"My cell," David replied, nodding.

"Tell me more about your sister."

"Lily Branca. She's two years older than me, basically raised me. She works in a restaurant close to here. She wouldn't have done anything to provoke anyone to kidnap her," David added. "I don't know why..."

"Do you have enemies that might want to get to you through her?" I asked. David shook his head.

"I'm not that high up in the heirarchy at the PD," he admitted.

"How'd you get your hands on Mike's file, then?" Sam asked.

"Doesn't matter, Sam," I said loudly. "Do you have anything for us to work with?"

David shrugged. "I saw Lily last night. She was doing great. It had been a while since we'd seen each other. We hung out at her place for a few hours."

"Where does she live?"

"Just a block away."

"Not the highest end of town," Nate commented. David looked a bit uncomfortable.

"The restaurant doesn't pay very well. She's only been there for a couple months. She's had trouble keeping a job down."

"Don't you help her out at all?" Fi pushed. She still sounded bitter. David glared at her.

"I do, but I have a family of my own to take care of. I already said I'm not that high in the heirarchy at work and cops don't get paid that well anyway. Miami or not."

"We'll see what we can do," I told David. "Sam, Fi, could you go with David, check out Lily's place?"

Sam nodded as Fi exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"

"Nate, will you go with David and Sam?" I asked, ignoring the incredulous stare Fiona was giving me. Nate glanced at Fiona for a second before shrugging.

"Sure, why not?"

The three men filed out quickly as Fiona started ranting. I waited, closing my eyes wearily. I needed rest. I was still recovering from the hole in my stomach and exerting this much energy was not helping the healing process.

"Fiona, if you could go home with Mom, I'd appriciate that."

"I don't need looking after, Mi--"

"Mom, someone just broke into my place and almost killed me. I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

Both women gave me hard glares. Finally Fiona looked away, up to Ma. "Let's go, Madeline. Michael's being stubborn. You know how he gets."

The comment she had given Sean about my stubborness rang in my memory as the two of them walked through the door. I sighed, wishing I could explain myself better to Fi. Soon, however, I'd fallen asleep.

A/N: Ah!! It's building up! I'm so excited! I hope you are, too... of course, I know what's going to happen and you don't so... :)

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!


	5. Chapter 4

I came out of sleep uneasily, groggily, and felt something cool and wet on my forehead. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw Fi with a wet washcloth. Her eyes caught mine and she turned away, walking to the sink.

"Sam's with your mom, don't worry."

I blinked at her. I hadn't been about to accuse her of anything. Of course, I hadn't really remembered I'd sent her to stay with Ma until now, but all the same.

"We need to replace your bandages," she continued, pulling out some white bandages from a cupboard. "Nate, can you help him sit up?"

I shot a look over to my other side. Nate was sitting there on the stairs, now looking quite excited. "He can't sit up by himself?"

"No, he can't," Fiona answered for me, walking back with her supplies. Nate scurried over happily and slid his arms under my armpits. I gritted my teeth. I wanted desperately to sit up myself, but I knew Fi was right. I also knew, however, that Nate was enjoying this way too much. It was like when he'd pulled that bullet out of my shoulder...

"Ah!" I cried as Nate pulled me up way too quickly. "Gently, Nate!"

"Aw, c'mon, bro, don't be a baby."

If I could've glared at him through the pain, I would have. My stomach was on fire. Fiona's hands were a bit more gentle but I knew very well that she could've been more cautious as she unwrapped my wound and slathered it with antiseptic. To keep my mind off the pain, I turned to Nate.

"Did you and Sam find anything?"

Nate shook his head. "There was some sort of struggle, that's for sure, but you didn't give us much to work with. Why did you take this case anyway, bro? What's in it for you?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't entirely sure why, really. Fiona was using a little more force than she had been as she wrapped the new bandages around my torso.

"Yes, Michael, why _are_ you doing this?"

I simply glared at her.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Nate said with the sound of sudden dawning in his tone. "You want to do something and you can't!"

I was still glaring at Fi but she now had a slight smile on her face. She knew Nate was right. I knew Nate was right. I hated laying here, useless. David Branca had presented me the perfect oppurtunity to do something, whether he was PD or not.

Nate laughed. "Wow, bro. Hope you don't get any of us in trouble because you're taking your boredom out on us!" He walked towards the door. "I'm gunna go save Sam from Ma. See you around!"

I had nothing to say. I wanted to prove Nate wrong, to tell him I wasn't just doing this because I was bored, but I couldn't. Fiona finished wrapping the bandages around me and went over to my green chair. She sat down and curled up, as if she was going to fall asleep there.

"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously. She looked up at me.

"Going to bed. It's late, Michael. I haven't been able to sleep all day, like you."

"Go home!" I insisted. "I don't need a babysitter."

"But your mom does?" Fi asked, sitting back up. "No offense, Michael, but she's actually in better shape to defend herself than you are. I'm staying here."

"Fi-"

"Michael, it's my turn to be stubborn. I'm staying here."

We locked eyes for a moment, both willing the other to succumb. Finally, I sighed heavily. "At least use the couch upstairs. It'd be more comfortable to sleep in."

Fiona stared silently at me for a moment, as if she was amazed that she'd actually won. Then she smiled and skipped up the stairs. I rolled my eyes, tenderly laying back down. Her head appeared over the railing and she grinned down at me.

"Night, Michael."

I smiled back. "Night, Fi."

XxXxX

I woke up to the sunlight peeking out of the windows. Groaning against the exhaustion and pain, I looked around for Fi. She was no where to be seen. Perhaps she was still asleep? I called her name several times, once again cursing my near immobility. There was no answer. Maybe she actually left. Getting some breakfast, possibly.

There was a knock on my door and I frowned. Fiona wouldn't knock. An enemy wouldn't knock. No one I could think of would knock, actually. With difficulty, I reached for the handgun under my pillow.

"Come in," I called, training the gun on the door. The door opened to admit a hassled looking David Branca in. I lowered the gun, frowning at the man's expression.

"What?" I asked, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"She called again," he breathed. "She wants to meet me. What should I do?"

I pulled myself up, wincing. However, I mentally took note of the fact that I could actually sit up myself now. That was a good sign.

"Can you call her back?"

David shrugged. "I could try. Why?"

"Call her and tell her you'll have your hostage negotiator meet with her."

David frowned at me, unconvinced. "Who, you? Aren't you wounded?"

I growled at him. "I'll be able to pull it off."

"You sure?"

"Do you want my help or not, David?" I bit. David stared at me unhappily.

"Okay, fine. Where do you want to meet her?"

I thought for a moment. "How about the restaurant your sister works at. We'll make it seem like she's got the upperhand."

I thought I heard him mutter something about her already having the upperhand but I chose to ignore it. I jerked my head at him, dragging myself off my bed. "Call."

XxXxX

"You're David's negotiator?"

She looked amused. Her eyes raked me up and down. I nodded, keeping still. To tell the truth, I was in exquisite pain. My legs were shaking slightly with the effort of having walked all the way to this dinky little restaurant. I was glad I'd gotten out the door before Fiona or any of the others had gotten to the loft. They would've never let me come. Honestly, I knew what I was doing was extremely idiotic and I was expecting quite the lecture from everyone, but here I was.

The kidnapper was hard to describe. She was either incredibly gorgeous or very plain. Her hair was dark and pulled up in a ponytail that had curls spilling out here and there. Her eyes were a deep green, piercing and dancing with laughter. She had a single dimple on her right cheek as she grinned at me. She was an average height, just a couple inches taller than Fiona. She didn't look particularily strong and she was wearing a simple orange t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Nothing like you'd expect a kidnapper to look like, really.

She gestured at the table she had been sitting at and I gratefully sank down in the chair across from her.

"So, what really does David think we're negotiating?"

I frowned. "The release of his sister."

Her grin widened. "Release? I'm not planning on releasing my dear friend Lily anytime soon, Mr...?"

"Nix," I offered. "Matthew Nix."

She nodded. "Well, Mr. Nix, I don't plan on releasing Lily."

"Then what do you want with her?"

She looked at me for a moment, a calculating look in her still dancing eyes. "Why don't you come with me, Mr. Nix. I have something I'd like to show you."

She stood up and I followed suit, trying desperately to mask the pain I was in. After watching me carefully for a second, she turned and walked towards the back door of the restaurant.

Suddenly, she whirled around, aiming a hard punch at my gut. All of the air flew out of me and I doubled over, gasping in overwhelming pain. Obviously I hadn't hidden my discomfort well enough. Something blunt hit me over the head and the world turned black.

A/N: Hey, at least he acknowledges that he's being stupid, right? And he pays dearly for it... Oh, I'm so excited for the next chapter...

Also, school has officially started for me. Therefore, updates will not be as often as they have been. I'll try to update every Sunday at least, but I make no promises. I apologize.

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!


	6. Chapter 5

My head was pounding. My mid-section was on fire. Overall, I was entirely uncomfortable. Without opening my eyes, I assessed my situtation. I was sitting in a chair. It was strangely comfortable in a really annoying way. It was wood, but shaped differently than a normal wooden chair. Classy, I would've guessed. My hands were tied behind my back with a really loose rope. It seemed it was there just to keep me up, rather than to keep me captive. The air was fresh, but there was no breeze. That was about as far as I could conclude while pretending to still be out cold.

I opened my eyes cautiously, quickly taking in my surroundings. I was indeed on a classy-looking wooden chair. The room I was in was completely white and there were no windows. In front of me was another classy wooden chair, my kidnapper casually leaning back in it. She hadn't noticed me yet. I continued to look around the room. It was fairly large and circular. The ceiling was extremely high. There were some vents up near the ceiling but they were too small for me to have used even I were to find some way up there. There was a single door in the room with a single small glass pane. The whole room had the feel of an insane aslyum with the exception of the lack of padded walls.

I looked back to the woman. She was wearing the same outfit as earlier, except her hair was a bit more unkempt. She had something in her hands and was intently staring at it. I frowned. What was going on?

"I'm looking through your contacts," she said cheerily when she saw I was alert. She waved my phone. "Not too many friends. I'm starting to get curious about you. Let's see, we have Fiona, Mom, Nate and Sam. Sam a Samantha or a Samuel?"

She looked at me for a second, as if hopeful I'd just give her the answer but I simply stared, trying to understand. I didn't like it.

"For fairness's sake, let's say Samuel. That means Fiona's the girlfriend, Mom's the mom, obviously, and then Nathan and Samuel. A brother and a buddy? Yeah, that sounds right. As for which one's which..."

She looked up again. Again, I simply stared. So far, all of this woman's guesses had been correct. Minimal though they were, it was disturbing enough that she was putting so much faith into her guesses.

"Well, which sounds better to the maternal ear? Michael and Nathan or Michael and Samuel?"

Wait a minute. How did she suddenly know my name? If that was another guess, too...

The expression on her face was thoughtful for a moment before she came to her decision. "Michael and Nathan, definitely. So. Nathan is the brother and Samuel is the buddy. Only four contacts. Not much to work with, but I guess it makes my job easier in a way."

Okay... I was officially quite disturbed.

"Now..." She was frowning at the phone, tapping her chin with one finger. "Which one do I call to start the game? Mom would be easy to freak out, but she's got to be old, so I might just kill her with the information that I've got her son which would be no fun. Nathan is family but there's no Dad on here, so I'm going to guess family relations are not the normal, happy American family. I'll have to figure out that little mystery as well as the limited contacts list. So we've got the girlfriend or the buddy. Hm..." The finger continued to tap at the chin.

I don't think I've ever been so off-balance. I had barely any knowledge of this woman, though it seemed she enjoyed kidnapping people. From what I could tell, she made a game out of it. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what she did with the hostage in the mean time. However, I could easily tell she was completely enjoying herself. This was her definition of fun. It was my definition of mentally unstable. But this? Being able to guess correctly every detail of my life simply by looking at the four contacts on my phone? And where in the world did she figure out my name?

She looked up to me again and smiled. "You're either trying to figure out how to get out of those restraints or you're coming to the conclusion that I'm completely mad. And you seem a bit boggled, so I'm going to say the latter."

I suppose it showed on my face. I was good at keeping my emotions from showing, it comes with the job of course, but this... Well, like I said, I don't think I've ever been so off-balance. The woman stood up, tucking my phone down her shirt which made me raise my eyebrows until I realized that she had the room down there to pull it off. She smiled slightly at my expression before walking around her chair a couple of times.

"Much madness is divinest sense, you know. Emily Dickinson. 'Course, people say she was crazy, too, so I don't know if you'd put much stock into what she says. I've always been more of a Poe fan."

Oh, fantastic. Dickinson was one type of insanity, Poe was another. Dickinson simply refused to follow the laws of punctuation, Poe wrote about ravens that spoke, psychopaths that buried people in floorboards because their eyes were different, a prince who built a building with rooms dedicated to each one of the seven deadly sins. More of a Poe fan? My eyes flicked around the room and I assessed what was left in my pockets, now trying to find my escape route.

The woman was staring at me, biting her lower lip and squinting her eyes. "Fiona was the one who texted you first."

I stared back up at her. Fiona hadn't known where I'd gone. A string of multi-lingual swearwords ran through my mind. I kept my face neutral, reasoning with myself. Fi was smart. She'd realize I'd done something stupid, probably find David and figure out what had happened. She could work from there. I had no idea where I was, but hopefully she and Sam could find out. If not, I was on my own.

"Perhaps I'll call her..." The woman was still musing to herself, eyes fixed on me. "What I want to know, though, is... who _are_ you, Michael? You're not who you said you were. What was it? Matthew Nix? You're not David's negotiator or whatever. Do you even know Lily personally? Perhaps I should introduce you. And I can introduce you to our other friend, too!" Her voice was suddenly excited and her bright eyes sparkled more intensely. "I've never introduced the friends to each other before... But, then again. I've never had a friend so intriguing as you, hun."

She made a sudden movement towards the door but stopped, looking back at me. "Do you need my help walking or can you make it? That's a nasty wound you've got."

I couldn't help but glare at her. She was purposefully goading me. We both knew my wound had been my downfall. She probably knew that, if it weren't for the hole in my stomach, I wouldn't be in this situation right now. I yanked my wrists free of the loose rope and tenderly stood up, walking towards her. She smiled.

"Right. Males. Have to do everything for themselves. I forget sometimes."

She turned away again, completely confident, and opened the door. Stepping aside, she let me walk through first, a gracious smile planted on her lips. Walking past me once she'd closed the door again, she glanced over her shoulder.

"Follow me."

I consider my options briefly. The hall was as white as the room we'd just left. There were few doors to go through, each with the same asylum-like door. I had no clue where I was. I had no clue what this woman was capable of. The best option was to do as she said and hope I could gain more knowledge by observation.

She had already started walking in the few seconds it had taken me to come to this conclusion and I had to painfully hurry to catch up to her. We passed one door before reaching the door that seemed to be our destination. The woman flashed her easy smile at me before unlocking the door.

"I'd like you to meet Samantha, Michael. Today's her special day. I think I might let you watch."

Gathering what little I already knew about this woman, this statement sounded way too ominious. I walked through the open door she was holding into a room exactly like the one I'd woken up in. Against the wall opposite the door was a young girl, around seventeen, curled up and asleep. The woman walked over to Samantha and shook her shoulder gently. The girl woke with a start and scrambled back from her kidnapper, eyes wide with terror.

"What do you want?" Her voice was hoarse, rapt with fear. I stared at the girl for a moment, shocked. There were bruises and burns all over her body. Her simple clothes were torn and smoldering, blood stains littering the cloth. What had happened here? The woman hadn't tortured her, had she?

"Today's the day, sweetie," the woman told the girl gently, almost motherly. If the girl wasn't in such a terrible state and if the woman wasn't her kidnapper, the sentence would've had a completely different meaning. The woman's tone was the exact tone of a mother, gently and tenderly waking up her precious daughter. The situation couldn't have been more different.

"C'mon," the woman pushed, standing up. Samantha stood up as well, still keeping against the wall, trying to stay far away from her kidnapper. It was hard not to notice the true extent of Samantha's injuries now. The woman beckoned her to follow and walked back towards me still standing in the doorway. Samantha avoided my gaze as she limped past me.

The woman stopped at another door, quite far down the hall. She opened the door, which was quite a bit thicker than the others and motioned for Samantha to walk through. Samantha stared at the woman for a moment before doing as bid. However, the woman did not walk in after her. As soon as Samantha was through the door, the woman forced the door shut and locked it. I threw a concerned stare at her. She smiled at me.

"Watch," she said, voice excited, pointing to the small, thick glass pane in the window. I moved cautiously to the window to see Samantha staring at the door, eyes wild, panicking.

"This is my favorite part of the game," the low voice of the woman hissed.

A blinding light suddenly filled my view through the door and a muffled yet still deafening explosion filled my ears. I jumped back, disbelieving. The fire of the explosion continued to rage past the thick door for a few moments and I stared, unable to look away. Once the fire died down, I took a couple of uneasy steps back to the window.

Samantha's remains were merely ash. Unable to work past the shock, I turned back to the woman, seeing her in a completely new light.

The psycho was standing there, fingers rapidly tapping against her lips, giggling.

A/N: I swear I'm not giggling like that woman right now. Except that that's a lie. But it's not a lie that I've never blown anyone up. I'm just a bit crazy. Yay!

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!


	7. Chapter 6

"I'm going to kill him."

"I know, Fi."

"I'm going to strangle him with my bare hands."

"So you've said about a hundred times in the past hour."

"He's going to get himself murdered!"

"By someone else or you?"

"Both!"

Sam stared at Fiona exasperately. About an hour ago, he'd gotten a frantic call from her, asking him if he knew where Michael was. She'd gone out for only half hour to pick up some breakfast and had come back to find no sign of the burned spy. Immediately, she'd called Sam over and had been ranting since.

"Look, Fi. Where would he have gone?"

"I don't know! Somewhere stupid!"

"Did you call Maddy?"

"Yes! She doesn't know!"

Sam frowned at her. "Maybe you should calm down and think rationally. What if it has something to do with the job we're doing right now?"

Fiona stopped her pacing and stared at Sam. He could almost see the lightbulb turning on above her head. "David."

Sam nodded. "Didn't call him, did you?"

Fiona shook her head, pulling her phone out. However, before she could dial, it started ringing. She glanced at Sam briefly with a puzzled look.

"It's Michael," she hissed angrily, before putting the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

_"Fiona, correct?"_ A smooth female voice spoke over the reciever. Fiona paused.

"Maybe. Who's this?"

_"That doesn't matter. What matters is, you're worried about Michael."_

Fiona's eyes widened. "Michael? Michael who?" Fiona turned away as Sam's eyes widened as well, a question dancing on his face.

_"I just wanted to let you know, I have him. That's all."_ There was a click and the line went dead. Fiona stared at the phone for a moment before turning back to Sam.

"The lady who kidnapped Lily? I think she's got Michael now, too."

XxXxX

"David Branca."

"Uh... hi?" The cop stood in his door, looking a bit uneasy at the fact that Sam and Fiona were standing at his doorstep. Fiona shrugged.  
"Looked you up. Wasn't that hard to find your address."

"Can I help you?" David seemed to have regained a bit of confidence after the intial shock and straightened up, folding his arms.

"Tell us everything, every detail you know about this kidnapper," Fiona commanded, diving straight into it. David's eyes flicked between Fiona and Sam.

"...Why? Is Michael back from the meeting?"

Fiona and Sam glanced at each other.

"What meeting?" Sam asked. David's eyes continued to flick back and forth between the two of them for a while. Finally, he stepped aside.

"Maybe you should come in."

XxXxX

In a gleeful fit after the stunning death of Samantha, the woman practically skipped to another one of the rooms to introduce me to Lily Branca. Lily didn't look bruised or beaten like Samantha had, but I got the feeling that it was only a matter of time until both Lily and I were given that special treatment. Lily was especially young looking, even though I knew she was older than her brother. Her eyes were shallow and her hair was blonde and greasy. I had the feeling she'd have been quite pretty if she took better care of herself.

After introducing us through a fit of giggles, the psycho took me back to my room. She stood in the doorway for a moment, the grin suddenly missing from her lips. She stared at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. Then, having made her decision, stepped in, shutting the door behind her.

"You're different, Michael," she said, starting to circle. I glanced at the chair still sitting in the middle of room longingly for a moment. My stomach was on fire. She noticed and grinned again.

"You can sit down. You probably should, actually. You're wearing yourself out."

I glared at her for a moment before quickly trotting to the chair and sitting down. Oh, sweet relief. She grin broadened.

"As I was saying. You're different. You're not some ordinary Joe from off the streets, like the others. Of course, that was obvious by the fact you were posing as David's negotiator. And your nasty wound there. PI, maybe? Cop? No... David's a cop... Then again, he is a lower level cop. Oh, I don't know! Secret agent? FBI? No, David wouldn't have that kind of money... wouldn't have the money for a PI, either, unless you're a really cheap and terrible PI... Which might explain the wound... But I don't think so..."

It was fascinating to watch this woman's thought process. Fascinating in a terrifying sort of way, of course. Suddenly I noticed she'd stopped rambling. She was staring at me again. I stared back, uncertain of what I was reading behind those green eyes.

"I'm talking a lot about you, aren't I? Maybe I should tell you more about myself."

I frowned. Usually I would highly appreciate someone just willingly telling me everything about themselves. However, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to know in this case. Maybe I could find something to use, though...

"As you've probably gathered, I have a... different way of viewing the world," she started, walking to the chair she had been using earlier, her back to me. "I just like having fun, y'know? Somethings are just... exciting to do. To watch. I can't help it!" She turned back to look at me. "You know what I mean? There's just something exhilirating about things like... like... like fire." Her green eyes blazed suddenly.

"And there has to be balance in everything, of course," she continued, her eyes far away and burning. "Balance. How would the world keep working if there wasn't balance? Good, apathetic, bad. Create, exist, destroy. Birth, life, death." She paused, eyes focusing back on me. "Sane. Insane. Or somewhere in between."

A/N: I'm sorry I missed last week- my weekend was... ah. Well. One of a kind, to say the least. Anyway. And I'm sorry this chapter's shorter than usual. I've gotten to the point where I don't have everything planned out detail for detail, so I'm sort of running with the wind... :)

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey, look! I'm back! Yes, I'm actually back. And you have every right to hate me and not continue reading this. I'm sorry. And I won't even try to give you an excuse. BUT. If you do continue reading this, I'll just say, consider yourselves lucky. I never go back to a story that I've stopped writing. Also- apologies- it'll be rough for me to get back in the groove since I've been out so long. ENJOY!

Also, before we start, I'd like to give a shout-out to violaqu33n who not only beta'd for me, but actually convinced me to continue. Check out some of her stuff, guys!

"Is this it?" Sam asked David as they pulled up to a dinky restaurant close to the loft. David glanced out the window and nodded.

"Do you really think he was kidnapped as well?" he asked nervously. "If this lady can kidnap _him_--"

"Might I remind you Michael is badly injured?" Fiona interrupted, voice tense as she stared at the restaurant. "Why you ever let him go in there with that bitch--"

"I tried to stop him! He said he'd be fine, though!" David argued defensively.

"Of course he said--"

"Kids!" Sam interrupted. "Bicker about this later. Right now let's go inside, see if we can find anything."

Fi glared at Sam for a moment before throwing open her door and haughtily walking out. Sam sighed, glanced at David, and then followed her.

Once inside, all three walked up to the bartender. Sam pulled out his phone and showed the bartender a picture of Michael. "Have you seen this man?" he asked. The bartender glanced at the phone and shrugged.

"Maybe."

Sam sighed, sitting down and sliding a couple of bills across the counter. The bartender focused on the bills for a moment before slipping them into a pocket.

"Yeah. Saw him earlier this morning, I think."

"Was there anyone with him?" Fi asked, sitting down beside Sam. "A woman, maybe?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. Pretty lady. Wore a bright orange shirt."

"What were they doing?" David chimed in, leaning forward.

The bartender shrugged, wiping a smudge on the counter. "Eating, I suppose. Talking, probably."

Sam and Fiona exchanged glances. "Did they go anywhere?" Sam asked, an agitated edge creeping into his voice.

"Think they left around the back," the bartender answered, jerking his head towards the back entrance. Sam looked at Fiona.

"Fi, think you can--"

"Checking it out, got it." She stood up and walked to the entrance. David slid onto her stool.

"Sir, can you describe this woman to us?"

The bartender sighed, throwing his rag down. "Lotta people come around here. Do you really expect me to remember every single one of 'em?"

David looked away, frustrated, but Sam slid another couple of bills across the counter. "Yes. We really do."

The bartender's eyes flicked back and forth between the extra money and Sam before snatching the money and shoving it his pocket. "I dunno. Like, I said, pretty lady. Orange shirt. Nicer shirt, too, not a t-shirt. Whaddya call those?"

"A blouse?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes. The man nodded.

"Yeah, one of them. Dark blue jeans. Shorter than your guy, there, but I wouldn't say she was as short as that other chick you had here just a second ago. Dark hair. Curly. Pulled back. Green eyes. I dunno. Really, you could be looking for half the population of the women here in Miami."

"Did she have a low, almost husky voice?" David inquired, suddenly excited again, remembering the woman's voice from the phonecalls. The man nodded.

"Yeah. Usually I'd say it was sexy, but, I dunno, it was almost scary."

"You're sure there's nothing else?" Sam prodded. The bartender shrugged.

"Yeah. Well, okay. Nah. She had this... look in her eyes. I don't know how to describe it. Crazy, maybe? Really excited 'bout something. Dunno. Maybe it was just my imagination."

Sam nodded, noticing Fiona coming back from her investigation. "Thanks for the help," he said, standing up to meet her. "Find anything?"

Fi shook her head. "You?"

"We got a description of the woman," David answered. "I'll go through the police department's database and see if we've got anyone matching her description."

"Other than that?"

Sam shook his head. "We're still in the dark. We need to let Madeline in, Fi. She's gunna start asking questions soon."

Fi nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. Have fun with that!" she added cheerfully, skipping to the car. Sam glared at her, hot on her tail.

"Oh, no you don't! You're coming with me, missy! I'm not going into that battlefield on my own!"

A/N: Fluffy ending, I know. And I know, I know, no Michael and crazy woman yet. Next chapter, I promise!

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!!!


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: There's more to this one, so I'm hoping people will actually review... However much I love this story, guys, I'm not going to continue if no one's going to R&R.

Fi didn't sleep well that night. So many thoughts were bombarding her, buzzing around. She had tried to get some rest but after tossing and turning until three in the morning, she got up and pulled out a TV show she owned on DVD to watch. Usually she would get extremely emotionally invested in this show, especially as it had been cancelled prematurely, but found it wasn't working tonight. She was too worried about Michael.

This would be the longest Fi hadn't heard from him since she'd moved to Miami. And with how things had been going lately.... Frustration boiled up inside Fi so high that when her phone rang, she almost grabbed the nearest firearm and sent it to kingdom come. Realizing what it was, however, she set the firearm down and picked up the phone while glancing out a window to see the sun had risen. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Fi looked down at the caller ID only to have her heart skip a couple more beats. It read Michael's name. Probably meaning it was his kidnapper.

"Yes?" she hissed into the receiver.

"Fiona," the woman's voice practically purred. "I'd like to meet with you. Can you be at the restaurant Lily Branca worked at in an hour? You know who Lily Branca is, right?"

"Yes, I do," Fi replied. "And yes, I can. It'll be my pleasure."

"Oh, good!" the woman said gleefully. "Can't wait."

XxXxX

"Sam, do you see her?" Fi asked impatiently four hours later.

"No, Fi, I don't," Sam replied testily from the Charger. "And if you keep talking to yourself, you're going to spook her. If you haven't already."

"How do you know you didn't spook her?" Fi bit back. "Sitting in an old Charger with your binoculars!"

"I wasn't about to let you meet the lady without backup, Fi!" Sam argued. "I'm not bailing both you and Michael out!"

Fi sighed angrily, taking another sweeping glance around the restaurant. "It's been three hours, Sam. I'm pulling the plug. We're wasting time sitting here."

"Sounds fine," Sam answered. "We'll check up with David, see if he's got anything."

Leaving a little cash on the table for her drinks, Fi stood up and started to walk back over to where Sam was waiting. Something caught her eye and she froze, turning to where the movement had been. By the time she could get a full look, whatever it was- if it had been anything- was gone. She couldn't help but wonder, however, if someone had been watching her the entire time.

XxXxX

Psycho woman had left after her strange monologue about balance and hadn't come back all day. I was left locked in the small circular white room with just me and my thoughts. I rested on the chair for a little bit but it wasn't too long before I started getting edgy. Though it was painful, I stood up and walked around the room for a while. I knocked on the walls to try to determine how thick they were and wasn't surprised to find they were incredibly thick. I negotiated whether or not it was a good idea to run around the room a little or do a few push-ups or crunches and decided I shouldn't risk it. Fiona and Sam... well, and Ma and Nate were going to kill me enough as it was. My best option was to simply rest, however much that was going to bug me.

By the time the woman returned, I figured it was midday the day after she'd captured me. She unlocked the door and beckoned to me, her everlasting grin seeming a bit more satisfied than normal.

"Today's Lily's special day, Michael!" she said as I cautiously walked towards her. Special day... hadn't she used that term yesterday? Right before she had... blown Samantha up.

"Her day three," she continued as we walked down the hall. "I love day three. I love three! It's such a gorgeous number. Three's a magic number, you know that, right? I learned that from School House Rock. Did you watch that show? Nice little song about it. But, really, think about it! Three wishes from a genie, three sisters in Cinderella. Or three- two stepsisters plus a stepmom. Goldilocks and the three bears. Three little pigs and the big bad wolf. Three billy goats gruff. And so many things come in threes, too! I know they say everything comes in pairs but they're wrong! Nothing is black and white- there's grey in between. Three is just such a satisfying number. Ah, there you are honey. Let's go!"

We were at Lily's room now and my mind was reeling, trying to find some way to save Lily. The woman was battered and bruised, just like Samantha had been, making me wince. I glanced at the psycho, assessing if I should take my chances and fight. What would I do after the fight, though? I had no idea where we were, I had no clue how to get out of here. Who knew what other tricks this place had? Suddenly I realized my kidnapper was staring back at me.

"Don't try anything, Michael," she warned, the smile on her face gone. "I'll be sorely disappointed if my favorite person did something stupid."

I gave her the best convincing smile I could conjure. "Innocent little me," I said, raising my hands in surrender. Her grin returned.

"He speaks!" she exclaimed. Satisfied, she turned her back to me, leading Lily further down the hallway and trusting me to follow. I hesitated for a moment. I could turn and run. Lily would die but I'd get out. Except that I might not. Where would I go? Grimly, I decided to take my chances and hurried to catch up with Lily and the psycho.

The woman ushered Lily into what I thought was the same room Samantha had died in yesterday. I couldn't be sure, though. The surrounding pure white was rather disorienting. When the psycho closed the door behind Lily and I could see Lily's terrified eyes looking back at me from behind the thick glass pane, I was pretty certain it was one and the same. The psycho glanced back at me, pearly whites blazing in my direction. I kept her gaze, determined not to watch Lily's silent pleas, as the explosion rocked something inside of me.

As a spy, you're trained to forget the feeling of fear. If being near explosions or gunfire makes you quiver, you're not going to last long out in the field.

Standing a mere two feet away from this woman with the fire that had just caused Lily Branca's death still blazing in peripheral vision, I was terrified. I knew I was next. And I knew there was little I could do.

A/N: Major Michael whumpage in the next chapter... I'm excited.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: This one took me a while- it was hard to get right. I think it turned out good, though.

_As a spy, you're trained to forget the feeling of fear. If being near explosions or gunfire makes you quiver, you're not going to last long out in the field._

_ Standing a mere two feet away from this woman with the fire that had just caused Lily Branca's death still blazing in peripheral vision, I was terrified. I knew I was next. And I knew there was little I could do._

I had to look away before too long. She had started to giggle again, her eyes still locked with mine. I couldn't stand it. It was actually easier to watch the fire in the room dying down than to keep that staring contest going. After the fire was completely gone, I felt the woman place a hand on my shoulder.

"Come on," she said quietly. "I rather wish your girlfriend could know about this next part."

I whipped around to stare at her. Why had she mentioned Fiona? Then it occurred to me. She had been talking about calling someone on my contacts list. Hadn't she decided on Fi? Had she actually called Fi? A small feeling of relief coursed through me. If this woman had called Fi, Fi would realize what had happened and she and Sam would wade through hell to rescue me. Then again, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted Fi and Sam to get caught up in this. I didn't need them to be the next Lily and Samantha.

The psycho was leading me down the hallway again to yet another room I was fairly sure I hadn't seen open yet. She opened the door, practically shoving me inside and shutting the door with a resounding thud behind me. I turned to look back at her, but she had moved off already. The room looked exactly like every other room but with no chairs. And... Well, that was strange. A ways up, there was a large window, past which I could see a tiny white room with a seating area. As I stared at the room, confused. Only a few moments later, the psycho showed up in the room, squeezing past the door and going to sit down. She saw me watching and her grin widened.

A quiet buzzing reached my ears from behind me and suddenly I felt something small whisk past my ear. Something hit the wall below the psycho's lookout and fell to the ground. It was a small rock, smoothed out. I whirled around to figure out where the hell it came from. Receding back into the wall was a tiny cannon, a little smoke still trailing from it. I looked back up to the psycho. I'd never seen a grin so wide and excited.

I barely had time to register her grin, however, before a sudden heat blazed to my left. I jumped away from the fire a blowtorch was shooting. Damn, this woman was either loaded with money or just brilliant to be able to figure out how to rig this place with blowtorches and small cannons in the walls. Suddenly it dawned on me why Samantha and Lily had looked so beat up before they'd died.

There was another whirring sound, but different than the sound of the cannon. I spun around, eyes scanning the walls for some new contraption. Nothing. A searing pain shot through my large toe and jumped backwards, staring at the floor as a razor disappeared back into the ground. The toe of my shoe had just been sliced off, the very tip of my large toe along with it. Damn, that stung.

Before I could try to bandage my toe, however, all hell broke loose. Small cannons flung out from their hiding spots in the walls and starting randomly firing. Blowtorches joined them, the heat in the room becoming stifling within a matter of seconds. Razors appeared and disappeared on the floor. It was all I could do to make sure nothing hit anything vital. Dodging and weaving, I made my way to a gap in the blowtorches and cannons on the wall, leaning up against it.

Taking the moment to catch my breath, I assessed the damage. I could already feel bruises forming in various areas. Little bits of my hair were singed and I batted out of flame on my pants. It was hard to breath with all the fire in the room and I threw off my coat jacket in an attempt to get some relief from the heat.

A whizzing sound, all too close, reached my ears and I looked frantically for the razor. It was on the wall, slicing it's way through the wall and directly for my midsection. Okay, that just wasn't fair. Bolting from the wall, I was unaware of another danger in the same spot I was headed for. I ran straight into a wave of flame.

I only stood in the flame for mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I had never before felt such heat, such agonizing heat. I whirled out of the flame before it could do any real damage and collapsed to the ground. Small rocks where still pelting me, fire was still billowing around me, but I was pretty sure that the razors had suddenly froze. Maybe the psycho wanted to make sure I didn't actually die yet. How generous.

The thought was actually comforting somewhat, however. If she didn't want me dead, that meant she'd stop the blowtorches and tiny cannons before they killed me, too. I could just continue to lay here and take the beating. My entire body hurt. The hole in my stomach from the other day felt like it was fresh again. Areas the small rocks had hit were pounding. Shallow cuts from razors bleed steadily. I could feel the burns covering my body pulsing. That woman was completely mad.

I didn't notice when the hell died down. I didn't even hear the woman unlock the door and walk in. The next thing I knew, she was helping me stand and leading me back to my room. As soon as she helped me lay down, I blacked out.

XxXxX

"So you haven't heard from her all day?" Sam was asking. David shook his head, looking fidgety. Fi, Sam and David were at Carlito's, trying to figure out their next move.

"What do you think that means?" he whispered. He swallowed. "You think... do you think Lily's... okay?"

Sam winced, glancing at Fi. "Don't know."

"But- but-... she called you, right?" David asked, pointing at Fi. "Said she wanted to meet? She did that yesterday. Met with Westen."

"She actually showed up to that one, though," Fi said, tapping her fingers impatiently on her glass. "Why didn't she show up today?"

"And you found no one matching her description in the MPD's database?" Sam asked David. David shook his head.

"I mean, there were a few women, but they were either all in jail or had passed away."

Sam sighed. "I'll do some digging of my own. Meanwhile, you keep your head down, David, and let us know if she ever does contact you again."

Fiona followed Sam as he stood up to leave. She hadn't really taken in much of the conversation with David, she was too distracted. As they walked to the car, Fi suddenly stopped. Goosebumps were running up her entire body and she frowned, quickly looking around for any sign of danger. She saw nothing. Somehow, though, as she stepped into the Charger, she couldn't shake the feeling Michael needed them more than ever.

A/N: I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Hey everyone! So I'm putting in a shameless plug for my other story, which is a Burn Notice/White Collar crossover called Burn Collar. No, it's not just a mash-up of the two titles of the shows. And I usually hate crossovers, so... I'm putting in a plug because that's not generally something you browse for, so not many people run across it randomly. If you're interested, PLEASE go check it out and review!

Also. Thank you to yesimadramaqueen for being the only one who reviewed the last chapter. I'm serious, people. If I'm not getting feedback, I don't see the point of continuing. Now. On to the story...

Fiona slept at Michael's loft that night. Or, at least, she tried to sleep. After another night of tossing and turning, she dragged herself off Michael's mattress and started organizing every cabinet and drawer. She got all the way up to the second level before Sam arrived in the morning.

"Fi?"

"Upstairs," she called down, staring momentarily at the pictures Michael had sitting on his desk. They were all from Dublin.

"I found something," Sam told her, hurrying up the stairs. Fi brushed the pictures into a drawer and looked up.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, setting a list down in front of her. "In the past three weeks, a bunch of people have gone missing with similar circumstances. A relation or friend will get a call from a woman telling them she's kidnapped their loved one one day, the next day, they'll get a call from the same woman asking to meet with them. That same day, some of them will meet her, some won't. The ones who do don't inform the police until after they've met her, the ones who don't meet her have already talked.

"And then, this is interesting," Sam said, pointing at the names. "Three people will go missing one week, three the next. If we count Michael and Lily, three people have gone missing this week, too."

Fiona was staring at the names. Susan Enright, Hank Bernal, Jay Rivers. Holly Swopes, Mark Kemp, Cyril Krakauer. Samantha Creegan. Lily Branca. Michael Westen.

"Three people each for three weeks. Either that's one hell of a coincidence or this woman's obsessed with three," Sam continued.

"This is all very interesting, Sam," Fi said finally, looking up. "But how does this help us?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not done yet. Each group of three has disappeared in the same general area around the city. So I looked up these three areas on a map." Sam pulled out a map of Miami with red circles on it. He pointed at the three circles.

"They're in a triangle," Fi observed, goosebumps running up her arms. This woman really did like the number three, didn't she?

"A perfect equilateral triangle," Sam added. "And guess what's in the middle."

Fi looked up to him questioningly. Sam's finger moved to the red star he'd marked.

"An old, abandoned insane asylum."

Fi's gaze moved back to the map. "Let me guess. It's been abandoned for three years."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Thirty-three, actually."

XxXxX

It was hard to think of a time that I'd woken up with less enthusiasm than I did that morning. The first thing that hit me was the still searing pain I was in. It had not dulled at all over the night. The second thing that hit me was that this was my third day in the psycho's custody. If I didn't get out of here today, I was going to die. Locked in a room. With an explosion worthy of five angry Fionas.

Grunting against the pain, I pulled myself up to a sitting position. If the psycho expected me to be a scared rabbit like her other victims, she was going to be sorely disappointed. I could fight against the pain if it meant surviving. It would be difficult. It would take more energy than I'd had to use in years. But I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Before long, I heard the familiar click of the door being unlocked, allowing the psycho inside. She smiled at me, shaking her head.

"Can you believe it's already been three days?" She sighed. "Ah, well. Let's go, hun." She walked over to my side, helping me stand and walk. As soon as we were out of that accursed room, I jammed my elbow into her stomach. With a _woof_ of air, she staggered backwards. I kicked a leg out and she tripped over it, falling hard to the ground. Not wanting to stay longer than necessary, I bolted past her, scanning for an escape.

I didn't hear her behind me until it was too late. She tackled me and we both toppled to the floor. Hurrying to regain my composure, I started to roll out from under her. The last thing I saw was her face, not longer grinning but still with the same sparkle in her eyes. I caught a glimpse of a homemade taser in her hand and felt it connect with the side of my neck. A jolt of electricity went through me and I passed out.

XxXxX

For the second time that morning, I woke to pain. Head swimming, I tried to sit up, realizing suddenly I was still alive. I blinked furiously for a moment before the psycho came into focus, standing in the open doorway. Her grin had returned.

"Well, that was exciting," she commented. I rubbed my eyes and leaned heavily against the wall opposite her, trying not to vomit.

"It's been pure torture, waiting for you to wake up," she remarked. "But I wanted you to be conscious for the end."

I took a few deep breaths, forcing the bile building up in the back of my mouth back down.

"It's a shame, really. None of my questions were ever really answered. I really would love to keep you around a bit longer. But that would be messing with the system and I don't think I could deal with that. No matter how interesting you are, this is how it has to be."

A shuddering breath left me. I wasn't going to throw up anymore. Slowly, I looked up to the psycho. A strange, burning emotion welled up inside of me, dulling the immense pain.

She was grinning at me happily. I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hated her in that moment. She kidnapped, tortured and killed people for sport. How many others had been subject to this treatment? How many people had lost loved ones like David had? How many lives had she ruined?

I only knew one thing for sure. I wasn't going to let her destroy anymore lives. I simply refused to let that happen.

A/N: Don't forget Burn Collar!

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: You know... I really love/hate how I give a threat and suddenly I get about ten reviews. Just saying. :)

_I only knew one thing for sure. I wasn't going to let her destroy anymore lives. I simply refused to let that happen._

Slowly, shakily, I pulled myself to my feet, keeping my eyes locked with her sparkling green ones the entire time. She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Wow. That was one of those moments I really wish real life had a soundtrack," she commented mildly. "That would've had some pretty damn dramatic music accompanying you there."

Our eyes stayed locked as I composed myself, deciding what the best move would be.

"Whatever you're thinking, Michael, don't," she said, her grin slipping into exasperation. "I really would rather this end nicely than with a fight. That's such poor--"

Suddenly she cut off. A strong wire was around her throat and she grasped at it, choking and coughing, but her grin returning. I stared, unable to see who was holding the wire at first. Through the struggle, however, I caught a glimpse of the psycho's attacker. My heart soared. It was Fi.

Taking advantage of the situation, I bolted to the door, slipping past the two women and out of the room. Before I could get out of the line of fire, though, the psycho stuck her foot out and I tripped, falling flat on my face. The psycho managed to flip Fi over her and Fi went flying, hitting the floor hard. Ripping the wire strangling her away, the psycho grabbed the collar of my shirt, hauling me up. Whirling to fight back, I found myself being pushed back in the room. The psycho grinned, jumped for the button and slammed down on it.

Several things happened at once. Realizing what was happening, I made a mad dash to get as far as possible, psycho standing in my way or not. Fi returned to the fight, shoving the psycho past me and into the room. Recognizing the fact Fi had no idea what danger she was in, I skidded back to the door, slamming it shut just barely in time, feeling the white hot heat of the explosion just as the door clicked closed.

Loosing my balance from the shock of the explosion, I fell back onto the ground, staring at the small window into the room showing us the billowing fire. I felt Fi's eyes fall on me after a moment.

"What the hell?" she hissed hoarsely. "Was she--?"

I nodded, pulling myself up, still staring. Fi had a mix of disgust and impression in her expression as she turned her gaze back to the window.

"Wow."

I didn't reply. I could only stare. The psycho had been caught in her own trap. She was gone. Dead. Just like that. It was almost anticlimactic, I realized as the fire started to die down. She had been so horrible, so insane, so evil and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Just... gone.

Fi tugged me away from the scene and I walked in a daze out of the building to where Sam was waiting in the Charger. She explained to me how they had found me and how she had broken into the asylum but I didn't really take any of it in. I simply sat in the back of the Charger as Sam drove us somewhere and Fi tried to patch me up, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.

When Sam stopped in Ma's driveway and both Ma and Nate came running out, I believe I assured them I was perfectly fine and looked worse than I felt. I allowed everyone to dote and mother me, feeling as if I were in a dream. Everything felt so surreal after such clarity of pain and fear. After a while, I believe at least Fi noticed I wasn't responding and somehow got me out of the house and to my loft.

For some reason, the sound of her locking the door behind us seemed to knock some sense of reality into me. I jumped slightly at the sound and looked up to meet her eyes. They were etched with worry as she walked closer to me and placed a hand on my cheek.

"You okay, Michael? Really?"

I moved my head to assure myself her touch wasn't a figment of my imagination.

"I'll be fine," I whispered, closing my eyes. Fi's fingers caressed my face softly.

"She's gone. You know that, right? She's dead."

A strange sound that was supposed to be a laugh came from my throat and I opened my eyes to look at Fi again. "I know, Fi."

There was a pause of silence as Fi's fingers continued to caress my cheek and brush through my hair. I closed my eyes again, reveling in the fact I was alive, free, and with Fiona. After a few moments, she dropped her hand and I tried not to give her a pained look. She smiled slightly and led me to my mattress. I sat down and she plopped gently beside me, curling her legs up behind her.

"You... don't have to answer this yet if you don't want to," she started quietly, looking at me seriously, "but what happened in there? I mean..." Her eyes racked my body. "You look pretty beat up."

I shut my eyes tightly, trying desperately to ward off the memories suddenly bombarding me. This would definitely go down as one of those many things I stored away in a dark corner of my mind to never, ever touch again.

Fi seemed to see the affect her question had on me, for I felt her fingers in my hair again and her lips gently pressed against my eyelids.

"Shh," she whispered. "Don't worry about it, you don't have to tell me. Forget about it for a while. Just forget it ever happened."

Keeping my eyes shut, I searched for her lips with mine. Once finding them, I kissed her hard. Forgetting was exactly what I intended to do.

A/N: Wow. This has definitely been one helluva ride, hasn't it? Can I just say I LOVE this story? And, no, it's not done- there's still the epilogue. After which there will be a hopefully not too lengthy afterword from me about the inspiration of this story and a little more about psycho woman for those interested.

I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!


	13. Epilogue

It was a good thing Fi was a strong woman, I decided the next morning as I lay in bed, Fi still sleeping quietly beside me. I had let every suppressed emotion out on her last night and she had taken it a lot more easily than anyone else would have. I'd exhausted her, though, and she'd fallen asleep really quickly afterwards. My mind was too alert, however, to fall asleep myself and I simply laid there, eyes wide as I tried desperately not to think about the nameless psycho woman who'd almost killed me.

As soon as sunlight started to peek through the windows, I wrenched myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants. I considered grabbing a yogurt to satisfy my growling stomach but yogurt just didn't appeal to me right then. Instead, I walked over to the balcony doors and pulled them open, breathing in the fresh morning air.

Leaning against the railing heavily, I tried to calm my whirling thoughts. I was in a bad state and I knew it. But I'd just been brushed by death. And being held captive by a psychopath was not exactly a good thing for one's mental state of being.

I jumped a little when I felt a pair of slender arms wrap around my torso. Fi rested her head on my back, kissing a bruise lightly.

"You really need to calm down, Michael," she whispered, lips brushing against my back. I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my hands on hers.

"I'm fine, Fi."

I could feel the heat of her glare even though I couldn't see her face.

"No, you're not. Last night was proof enough of that. You're never that--"

"Rough?" I muttered. She pulled herself around to look into my eyes.

"Yes. You've got to breathe, Michael."

I kept her gaze for a moment before looking back out to the river. She was right. I knew it full well. But... Well, breathing was easier said than done right now.

A loud crack pierced the air and I threw Fiona back into the loft on instinct, feeling something sink deep into my calf. Biting back a bellow, I fell as another shot was fired. I rolled and army crawled past the doors. Fi and I both slammed them shut as yet another crack filled the air. Groaning against the pain in my calf, I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. The real world was back. I was back out in the open. I had to force myself to get out of the state the psycho woman had left me in or someone else would kill me.

I opened my eyes when I heard Fiona chuckle slightly and stared at her. What in the world did she find funny? She moved over to me, inspecting my leg tenderly, still chuckling before I finally snapped at her.

"What the hell, Fi?"

She looked up to me, still smiling. "The world really _is_ out for your skin, isn't it?" she asked, amused. "That's the third time someone's tried to kill you in the past week!"

I froze. Fi turned back to inspecting my wound, completely oblivious to the effect her words had had on me. The psycho woman was dead. She was dead, she was gone, never to be seen or heard from ever again. Yet she was still haunting me.

Three.


	14. Afterword

Author's Note

Hi guys! I really enjoyed writing this. So much so that, even after having been gone for months, I came back to it. That's really saying something. No, seriously. I've only ever done that with the novel series I'm writing. This is a big deal.

Before I go on, I'd like to give a shout out to violaqu33n again for being my glorious beta for a few of the chapters. Also for being the one who got me off my behind and got me to start writing this again.

Also, thank you to all reviewers! You're why I post: because I love feedback. Thank you so much for your love and patience! You're amazing!

Now. There are a few things about this story that might interest you.

First, the psycho woman. Who is she? You may be asking why the story's over and we still don't know who the heck she is. That's the fun of it. Because in my universe, there will always be this mystery psycho woman in the back of Michael's mind. And I don't know about you, but I like that.

Also.

I don't know how many of you are like me and try to look up all the things Jeffrey Donovan, Gabrielle Anwar, Bruce Campbell and Sharon Gless have been in. Jeffrey Donovan was in this amazing TV show on USA that lasted for a single season and should've lasted longer. It was called "Touching Evil." It was because of this show that this story came into being.

If you haven't seen this show, do. It's only a season so it won't take up too much of your time. The entire series is on youtube for your convenience. Enjoy. I did.

Now, digging deeper into how this show inspired "Three." In the Pilot we meet my favorite character: Cyril. (Who, comes to think of it, sort of reminds me of Spencer from Codes and Signals.) He has this monologue about the number three and how it's everywhere. I couldn't help but notice every time three showed up in the rest of the series. I don't know if it was on purpose or not, but it sure as heck freaked me out. In fact, the whole show freaked me out and I wish so badly that they had had more time to delve into the questions it presented.

After being slightly disturbed by how many threes there were in the show, I started to notice how many threes there are in real life. And here's the real kicker: three's my favorite number. Just look around (if you haven't started already)! It starts to get rather creepy.

Also, just for the fun of it, the list of people the psycho kidnapped? Every single one of those names, including Samantha and Lily, were taken from "Touching Evil." Even David. Jeffrey Donovan's character's name is David Creegan. Creegan's partner is Susan Branca.

One last tidbit that doesn't have to do with "Touching Evil":

The psycho woman? She's me. She's me if I ever went off the deep end.

Heh.


End file.
